


when the clouds come we go

by stefansgirl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefansgirl/pseuds/stefansgirl
Summary: Depression is an ugly, ruthless thing. It traps you in its hold and chokes you until there’s nothing left inside of you. Some days it feels like the easiest thing in the world to breathe. It’s natural; inhale, feel your lungs fill up with oxygen, exhale, and release it out into the world. Kiyoomi understands the mechanics of it, even appreciates the repeated motions of it. It’s simple, really, but other days, you forget that there was ever a time when you even knew how to breathe.Today is one of those days.-Kiyoomi’s depression and the ways in which Atsumu helps him navigate it.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 131





	when the clouds come we go

“Ya okay, Omi?” 

Kiyoomi looks up to meet Atsumu’s searching gaze. His brows are furrowed like they get when it’s his turn to serve and he’s trying to decide the best spot on the other side of the net to aim the ball. 

Kiyoomi looks back down to the book spread across his lap. “I’m fine.” 

Atsumu’s quiet for another moment and Kiyoomi can tell he’s looking for something to say. 

“Do ya wanna talk about it?” 

Kiyoomi shakes his head. 

“Do ya wanna be alone?” 

Kiyoomi thinks for a minute, then in a slight gesture, shakes his head no. 

Atsumu seems to consider this. “Well maybe it’ll help if ya—”

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says sharply. He looks up to see Atsumu’s wide eyes staring back at him. “Just stop. Please. I really don’t want to talk.” 

“Atsumu? What happened to Miya.” The laugh that he lets out is forced, like he’s trying to cut through the tension that’s settled over them. “I must be gettin’ the special treatment today.” 

When Kiyoomi doesn’t humor him with a response Atsumu sighs and flops down onto the couch. 

A minute later, the book is being shoved from his lap and promptly replaced by Atsumu’s head. 

“Atsumu.” Kiyoomi glares. 

“We don’t hafta talk, Omi.” Atsumu nuzzles his head further into Kiyoomi’s lap. “Just want ya to know ‘m here,” he says a little quieter. 

Kiyoomi watches him for a moment, then with a tentative hand, reaches up to stroke through Atsumu’s hair. The resulting sigh that Atsumu lets out helps ease some of the tightness in Kiyoomi’s chest. 

Depression is an ugly, ruthless thing. It traps you in its hold and chokes you until there’s nothing left inside of you. Some days it feels like the easiest thing in the world to breathe. It’s natural; inhale, feel your lungs fill up with oxygen, exhale, and release it out into the world. Kiyoomi understands the mechanics of it, even appreciates the repeated motions of it. It’s simple, really, but other days, you forget that there was ever a time when you even knew how to breathe. 

Today is one of those days. 

He brings his other hand up to Atsumu’s chest, placing it right over his heart and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. 

_Inhale._

Atsumu’s chest puffs up under his hand. Kiyoomi waits a couple more seconds because Atsumu’s breaths are longer than his own. 

_Exhale._

His chest deflates as he releases his breath. 

Kiyoomi follows the motion a couple more times, unconsciously matching his own breathing to Atsumu’s. When the chokehold around his neck loosens and he remembers how to breathe again, his eyes trail up to Atsumu’s face. 

“Ya hungry?” 

Kiyoomi considers this for a moment then decides yes, he is hungry. He nods once. 

“Me, too. Make me food?” 

Atsumu knows him well enough by now to know exactly what he needs. Because now more than ever, Kiyoomi needs routine. He needs to not think, but still do something that produces results. 

Kiyoomi nods again. Cooking is easy. Cooking is a routine that he can follow mindlessly. 

Atsumu lifts his head off Kiyoomi’s lap and climbs off the couch. He holds a hand out to Kiyoomi to help him up, but even after Kiyoomi’s standing, Atsumu doesn’t let go. 

“Ya okay with touching?” 

Kiyoomi nods because yes, he wants to be touched, he wants to feel and to be felt, he wants to be reminded that he’s solid and tangible and _here._

Atsumu watches him for another moment then pulls him into a tight hug. It’s not crushing enough that he feels his breath leave him again after he spent so long trying to find it, but it’s not loose enough that he still feels like his world is spinning on its axis. 

It’s warm and grounding and in the safety of Atsumu’s arms, Kiyoomi can almost pretend like he’s not falling apart. 

Atsumu pulls back after a minute and Kiyoomi immediately misses the feeling of his arms wrapped around him. But Kiyoomi knows that he’s still spiraling, and Atsumu knows this too, so with a tight hand wrapped around his, he pulls Kiyoomi to the kitchen. 

“Whatcha gonna treat me to tonight, Omi?” 

Kiyoomi opens the fridge and considers his options. He sees a packet of meat and Atsumu’s favorite mushrooms and a head of bok choy that’s about to go bad and decides on a simple dish. 

He pulls the ingredients out and when Atsumu sees them, he gasps. 

“How'd ya know that’s exactly what I was cravin’?” 

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes at his dramatics, but a small part of him fights back a smile. 

“Want me to get started on the rice?” Atsumu asks. 

Kiyoomi nods. He hates washing rice and Atsumu knows this. 

A minute later, the rice is washed and simmering away in a pot on the stove. 

Atsumu strokes through Kiyoomi’s hair one time, carding through the thick black strands, before he hops on the counter and takes a seat next to the stove. 

Kiyoomi makes quick work of washing the vegetables and meat, then pulls out a cutting board so he can begin chopping. Atsumu scrolls through his phone while Kiyoomi roughly chops the bok choy and cuts the stems off the mushrooms.

When he’s about to start cutting the meat into thin strips, he feels Atsumu’s foot pushing the hem of his shorts up. Kiyoomi looks up but Atsumu’s eyes remain on his phone, scrolling listlessly, his foot still stroking Kiyoomi’s thigh. 

Kiyoomi welcomes the soft touch, welcomes the reminder that Atsumu is here beside him and that he’s not as alone as he feels he is. 

Kiyoomi oils two pans. In one, he carefully places the seasoned strips of meat, and in the other, he dumps in the vegetables. He pulls a wooden spoon from the drawer on his right and stirs them, then looks up at Atsumu who’s sitting on his left and taps his thigh once. 

Atsumu turns off his phone and looks up. “Need somethin’, Omi-kun?” 

“Soy sauce.” 

Atsumu hums and jumps off the counter. He walks over to the fridge and a second later, he’s handing Kiyoomi the glass bottle of soy sauce. 

He doesn’t reclaim his spot on the counter. Instead, he comes over to stand behind Kiyoomi and wraps tight arms around his waist, placing his head between Kiyoomi’s shoulder blades. He slips his hands under Kiyoomi’s shirt where his thumbs rub soft circles into the skin there. 

Kiyoomi sighs as he feels the tension in his body begin to melt away. 

Atsumu lifts his head up and hooks it over Kiyoomi’s shoulder, watching him cook. 

“Didja wanna keep watchin’ that show we started last night?” 

He tilts his head so that he’s peering at Kiyoomi, trying to look him in the eye, but Kiyoomi keeps his gaze trained on the pan in front of him. 

“Not really,” he says. “I’m kinda tired.” 

“Okay.” Atsumu hums. He strokes soft fingers along Kiyoomi’s hip. “We’ll go to bed after dinner then.” 

Kiyoomi nods and adds another splash of soy sauce. He stirs for a moment and when Atsumu opens his mouth to try a mushroom, he feeds it to him off the wooden spoon. 

“Perfect,” Atsumu says, licking his lips. 

He lays his head back on Kiyoomi’s shoulder and tightens the grip around his waist. 

After a moment he says, “Ya wanna talk about how yer feelin’?” 

Sakusa sighs internally. He knew this was coming at some point. 

“Not particularly.”

“Well I’ll tell ya how I’m feelin’ then,” Atsumu starts. “I woke up feelin’ pretty good. I went to the gym to work out for a couple hours and when I came back you were still in bed. I took a shower and made some breakfast and you were _still_ in bed. That’s when I started to get bored ‘cause ya know I don’t like bein’ without my Omi-kun.” 

Atsumu nuzzles his face deeper into Kiyoomi’s neck and Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. 

“When I woke ya up ya seemed kinda down but I figured it was just one of yer off days, which is valid. I know that some mornings it’s not so easy to get up and start yer day. But ya know, Omi,” he says a little quieter. “It makes me upset when yer not feelin’ well. I want ya to always be happy.” 

“Wouldn't that be nice.” Kiyoomi snorts. 

“It would.” Atsumu nods, bumping his head lightly against Kiyoomi’s. “But don’t think I’m tryna make ya feel guilty for it. I understand it’s not so simple—“ 

“I don’t want to talk about this, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi cuts off. 

“Then let me talk. Just for a minute, Omi.” 

Kiyoomi sighs and begins flipping over the meat. Atsumu takes this as permission to keep going. 

“I know sometimes it feels like ya don’t have control over the things in yer life. And sometimes ya feel a certain way and ya don’t know why and ya hate it. Hate the feelin’ of not knowin’.” Atsumu pauses for a moment. “But ya wanna know what the constant is?” 

Kiyoomi’s jaw is clenched. He doesn’t say anything but that doesn’t stop Atsumu from continuing.

“It’s that I love you,” Atsumu says quietly into his ear. “Despite all else, I love you. Ya can always count on that, Omi.” 

Kiyoomi stays quiet. Atsumu presses a soft kiss to his jaw. 

“Yer gonna be just fine, my Omi,” he murmurs into Kiyoomi’s ear. “I’ll make sure of that.” 

“You make it sound so easy.” Kiyoomi laughs darkly. 

“It’s not easy,” Atsumu says, and Kiyoomi can feel the frown against his skin. “I know that it’s not easy for ya but we’ll figure things out together.” 

“And if we don’t?” His voice comes out rough. 

“That’s fine.” He feels Atsumu shrug, and the easy way in which he says it almost makes Kiyoomi believe it’s true. “It’s okay to not know.” 

“I don’t like not knowing,” Kiyoomi admits quietly. 

“That’s why ya have me. We’ll figure things out together, and if we don’t, then we won’t know together. Not knowing isn't so bad when no one else knows either.” 

Kiyoomi considers this for a minute. 

He supposes there’s not really any fault in Atsumu’s logic. It’s not usually the way Kiyoomi prefers to approach things but it’s better than any consolation he can come up with to ease his own mind. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he says because he hates admitting Atsumu’s right. 

“Gimme a break here, Omi.” He groans and shoves his head back in between Kiyoomi’s shoulder blades. “It’s hard for me to talk about these things. I dunno how to give good advice.” 

For the first time that day, Kiyoomi smiles. He turns around in Atsumu’s arms and cups his face. 

“You give perfect advice.” He brushes a thumb over Atsumu’s cheekbone. “Thank you.” 

Atsumu grins brightly and Kiyoomi feels his heart grow three sizes bigger at the sight. 

Atsumu presses a kiss against his temple. When he pulls back, he strokes his fingers through Kiyoomi’s hair, looking at him fondly. 

“Ya feelin’ any better?” 

Kiyoomi thinks about it for a minute. The tightness that was clutching at his chest is finally easing up, and he finds that he doesn’t have to carefully orchestrate each breath anymore. The once painful drags of air that scratched at his lungs and allowed so little oxygen in that he felt like he was teetering on the edge of panic come easily to him now, large puffs of air filling his lungs without any thought.

“I’m getting there,” he says truthfully. 

Atsumu smiles at him again, this one softer, more sincere. “Good. Let’s eat now.” 

When they’re done eating, instead of going to bed like they planned, Kiyoomi pulls Atsumu over to the couch, grabs his laptop, and continues the show they were watching last night. 

Atsumu wraps warm arms around him, pulling him closer to his chest, and Kiyoomi relaxes into the embrace.

Here, in Atsumu’s arms, the darkness that was creeping into his mind, threatening to take over, slowly fades away, making room for bright hair and even brighter smiles, and Kiyoomi thinks _I’m gonna be okay._

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of people associate depression with a traumatic event or a certain thing that’s going wrong in your life when, a lot of the time, you feel a certain way and you can’t really explain why. this can make you feel kinda shitty because you know that there’s nothing going on that merits these kinds of thoughts, but for some reason you can’t escape them. i mainly wanted to show how important it can be for someone to have their feelings validated and know that even though they haven’t figured things out completely, support from the people around you can help you feel a little less hopeless. 
> 
> if you’re reading this and, unlike sakusa, you don’t really have anyone there to help remind you that things are not as bad as they feel, i hope this fic was able to help you feel more validated. if not, i’m truly always here if anyone wants to reach out to me. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/atsum00s)


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